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Last December
FBI headquarters, for the fifth time, ordered that all the
Oklahoma-bombing documents be permanently archived. As material
flowed in from the field offices, the archivist realized some
of it had never been put in the main case file and shared
with defense lawyers. Not until Tuesday were McVeigh's lawyers
notified--and even then FBI officials waited two more days
to analyze the documents before telling Freeh; they were ashen
as they left his office. He was, says one insider, "absolutely
tear-ass." Bush and Ashcroft learned Thursday as well, and
immediately after Ashcroft's Friday press conference, officials
from the Justice Department Inspector General's office descended
on the bureau to investigate what had gone wrong.
FBI officials
blamed an antiquated computer-database system: "Our technology
is so old and unreliable, we don't know what we know," said
one. Yet a former senior Justice official called it "beyond
amazing" that the FBI would commit such a blunder in its most
high-profile case in years--especially after similar charges
of mishandling evidence were leveled during the investigation
of Clinton's campaign-finance scandals and led to a sweeping
internal probe. "It's a problem the bureau has had for a long
time," the official noted. "Agents are great at acquiring
information; they're not great at cataloging it or knowing
what they have." What was especially troubling was that the
mistakes were so widespread. Fully 46 of 56 FBI field offices,
from Houston to Honolulu and Atlanta to Anchorage, failed
to turn over everything they had on the case--in some instances
it appears that the Special Agents in Charge decided on their
own that some dutiful reports were unimportant. "The thing
that flabbergasts me--and makes me think that more inquiry
is required here--is that this was not just one office," says
a Justice veteran. "This was the whole damn bureau. I can't
figure out how so many people ignored the rules."
No one suggests
that the retrieved documents would have changed the outcome
of the case. But the confusion still had its costs because
the public, even in its angriest moments, wanted this all
handled fairly. "It's heartbreaking," says the Justice veteran.
"The country needs for this to be over. We tried to put the
very best people on this case, the best prosecutors. We really
tried hard. The main thing we wanted was an error-free environment."
In any capital
case, the stakes are by definition as high as they can be.
With this latest misstep, the doubts about the process are
threatening to help reshape the whole death-penalty debate.
The prospect of McVeigh's execution had already made every
argument get up and dance. Just as capital punishment was
losing support with each new innocent man freed by DNA evidence,
along came the perfect villain: so clearly guilty, unrepentant
and pitiless that at least 75% of Americans agreed with his
sentence, including 22% who say they oppose the death penalty
but would make an exception for him. The Pope had asked for
mercy; most Americans didn't think McVeigh deserved any.
But last
week the debate, with its sudden plot twist, turned inside
out once again. Death-penalty opponents seized on the FBI's
embarrassing revelation to argue that when the stakes are
this high, justice must be perfect. The moment Ashcroft announced
the delay, questions flew. What if these documents had turned
up six days after his execution, rather than six days before?
McVeigh admitted his guilt, but death row is full of inmates
who have not. How much doubt can the criminal justice system
withstand? "The events of the past three days demonstrate
that even in Mr. McVeigh's case, the government is not capable
of carrying out the death penalty in a fair and just manner,"
said McVeigh lawyer Robert Nigh.
McVeigh's
execution had all along promised to rattle our thoughts about
justice, simply by virtue of being the most closely watched,
widely discussed, endlessly publicized execution in a generation.
We are already involved: we "know" McVeigh. However mysterious
his motives, he is still far more familiar than anyone America
has executed in decades. We know that we were all his targets--that's
how terrorism is supposed to work. In return, we were going
to hear all about his last meal, his last words, at last.
That sense
of closeness was affecting even the bombing survivors. Randy
Ledger was a maintenance man on the first floor of the Murrah
building. His views on the death penalty have been challenged
by this process. "Six months ago, I would have said it was
fine. But the more personal this becomes, the closer it becomes,
the more moderate I become. It's very easy to say, 'Just put
to death another murderer' when you have no personal feeling
involved; but the closer this gets, the more introspective
I get--morally and spiritually--and it's very difficult."
MORE>>
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May 21, 2001 | No. 20
COVER
STORIES
Justice
Delayed
Does the hitch in Timothy McVeigh's execution point to deeper fbi problems?
The confessed bomber may get what he is due in the end, but he may also
have met one of his goals: making Americans doubt the way their government
pursues justice
TRAVELER'S
ADVISORY
SOUTH
PACIFIC
NEW ZEALAND: Loved to Death...
A top tourist spot's popularity has become a threat to its beauty
Defense: The focus shifts from force
to service
THE
ARTS
ART: Kathleen Petyarre's Utopia Dreamings
BOOKS: A Harry Potter wannabe cries foul
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